Difference
by LoveBugOC
Summary: There's his wife, the mother of his child and his life partner. And then there's the love of his life, the woman of his dreams and his always and forever what-if… OneShot


**Differences**

_There's his wife, the mother of his child and his life partner. And then there's the love of his life, the woman of his dreams and his always and forever what-if…_

X

There's his wife, _Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy_.  
>And she's the epitome of beautiful. Fare, perfectly clear skin. Long, straight, dark brown hair. Sparkling blue eyes. Plump, luscious lips. A tall, slim frame with legs that go on for miles. She's got the physic, and appearance of a model. And she's got the attitude to go along with it. She knows she's beautiful. She's always known it, and she's always known exactly how to use it to her advantage.<p>

X

And then there's Hermione Granger.  
>And she's the epitome of beauty, pure and raw. She isn't stunning or gorgeous, or sexy like his wife, but she's still rather beautiful. Tanned skin. [<em>It shines in the sunlight that seeps in through the windows<em>.] A blanket of small freckles across the bridge of her nose. [_He's counted them plenty of times_.] Long, curly, untamable dark brown hair. [_He tangles his fingers in her hair, getting them caught in the knots as he tugs affectionately_.] Warm, brown eyes. [_They're so kind and inviting and he's drowning_...] Pink, heart-shaped lips. [_Oh-so-kissable_.] A short, slim frame with curves in all the right places. [_She fits so perfectly against him, like they were carved from the same stone_.] She doesn't have the physical appearance or attitude of a model. [_Although he could spend all day, and all night just staring at her_.] But she has a kind heart, and a brave soul [_and sometimes-most times-he wants to crawl inside her chest and just live there_] and it's fucking beautiful. She doesn't even have a clue. She doesn't know she's beautiful-she doesn't even _**think**_ she's beautiful. She doesn't understand why he stares and she shakes her head when he tells her why. And that, he thinks, is what makes her so fucking _**gorgeous**_.

X

Astoria is so well put-together that she's sort of...well, perfect. But she's frigid. Cold. Stiff.  
>She walks with the elegance of a pureblood. Her shoulders pushed back, square and straight and poised. Her neck is open and elevated. Her head is always held high, with pride and pureblood etiquette. She is quietly reserved.<br>She is the epitome of the perfect wife, the perfect mother.  
>There's just no <em><strong>life<strong>_ to her. It's like she lives inside a box, never venturing outside of it. Never even wanting to. Everything has its place and everything has to be in its place, and only then is she happy. She lives by routines, never falling off track.  
>There's no excitement. No fire. No passion.<br>She just..._**is**_.

X

Hermione knows exactly who she is. [_She knew way before anybody else did_.] But it doesn't end there. She, unlike his wife, allows herself room to grow. Room to mature. Room to explore. [_She's been growing and maturing and exploring far longer than anyone else_.]  
>She's warm and fluffy and adventurous. [<em>She has these wild dreams-fantasies-of doing all sorts of crazy things<em>.] She walks with elegance of a different kind. [_She trips and stumbles, but it's graceful and beautiful_.] She is confident and powerful and passionate. She has no fear. [_He only wishes he were as brave as her_.]  
>She isn't perfect, but she's still perfectly happy being imperfect. She makes mistakes. She doesn't always get it right, but even when it's wrong it's okay. When she laughs, she laughs out loud-the wholehearted kind, where she throws her head back and closes her eyes. [<em>She is free<em>.] When cries, she cries for all the wrong reasons and when she talks, she's animated and lively. [_Nobody can stop her. Nobody even dares to try_.]  
>There is fire in her eyes and passion in her heart.<br>She is _**alive**_.

X

He _loves_ his wife, Astoria. He does.  
>He loves that she loves him.<br>He loves that while she can be cold and uncaring to the rest of the world, she is kind and compassionate and loving to their _**son**_.  
>He loves that she is loyal, despite his indiscretions.<br>He loves that she makes him dinner, even when he isn't hungry because she doesn't want him to starve-as though one meal is going to make him waste away.  
>He loves that she is quiet and focused in her work.<br>He loves her as a _person_. As a friend. As his wife and his life partner.  
>But he isn't <em>in love with her<em>.

X

How can he be, when his _heart_ craves another?  
>When it's <em>her<em> dark, unruly curls he wishes lay upon his pillow sheets. When it's _her_ dark brown eyes he craves staring back and her heart-shaped lips kissing him back and her quick, witty tongue arguing back. When it's _her_ body he craves sleeping next to his, with his arm curled around _her_ waist and his face buried into the back of _her_ neck.  
>He <em>is in love with <em>_**her**_. With her _mind_ and her _heart_ and her _soul_. With her obnoxious laugh and her beautiful smile.  
>[<em>His wife knows, but she never tells<em>.]

X

It's been **years**. Years since he's seen her, been with her. Years since he's lost himself in her warm eyes and tasted her kiss. Years since he's held her.  
>And while he loves his wife and wouldn't trade his family for the world, sometimes he wonders. And he will always wonder. What if?<br>What if he had been stronger, braver?  
>What if he hadn't forced her to give up on him? [What if he hadn't given up on himself?]<br>What if he had followed his _heart_ instead of his parent's directions?  
>What if it had been <em>her<em>?


End file.
